A Miles Family Dinner
by CaddySam
Summary: Desmond Miles is hosting this year's Thanksgiving dinner, and he can only fathom what it will take to keep everyone civil. (All your favourites, in perfect-ish harmony! P.o.v of Desmond. Some mild language)


**Hello, readers! This is a slight revision of an older version. I apologize for any hiccups in translations/linguistics. I only speak Google Translate next to English! **

**Enjoy this special Thanksgiving dinner with Desmond and family!**

**(more to come, no worries)**

**I**

I braced myself for the chaos that was soon to come. Not all of history, from the conquering of the Crusades to the rise of the Roman empire; from the Spanish revolution to the Civil War of 1776 could compare to what would surely ensue within the coming hours.

My relatives were coming to my place for Thanksgiving.

Myself and my foster brother, Clay Kaczmarek, was usually my limit. Our tiny little three bedroom bungalow was hardly space for a family of two, let alone a family of fourteen more. I had no idea how in the hell we were going to accommodate my entire family. I had asked Clay how we would do it, and how ridiculous it was going to be to organize and who we should just cancel the whole thing, but all I had gotten in response was, "God, Desmond, do you really hate your family _that_ much? How bad can they really be?"

I knew the answer to that. They could get really bad.

My eldest uncle, Altaïr, his wife, Maria, and their two sons, Darim and Sef were nice enough to have over for the occasional barbecue. Maria, coincidentally, owned the bar I currently worked in and so I knew her well. I also knew her sons pretty well, and though they were several years younger than I, I still had to watch Darim and Sef rocket past me in the educational hierarchy. Sef was probably in his first or second year of his doctorate, and Darim was probably already a doctor of some kind, anyway. With such strict and loving parents, there was no way those two would ever be un-employed. I hadn't seen their father in a long time. My eldest uncle had a habit of disappearing for days on end to who knows where. Thank god he was self-employed, otherwise Maria would have his balls for missing work. I laughed to myself at how delightfully plain they seemed in comparison to my other uncles.

I thought of Uncle Ezio, my closest related actual uncle on my father's side, and of all the misadventures he never ceased to tell me about. By far, I found him the most interesting of my more acquainted uncles and preferred him to the others, regardless of his womanizing ways. Although, I had heard that he had settled down since the last time I had seen him - four years ago - with a here-tell beautiful woman named Sofia. I had heard from Altaïr that Ezio and Sofia had already had two children together. I found myself excited to actually meet them. How a librarian and a tailor met, I'll never know. They seemed to have good chemistry, and that was all that mattered. That came from my father's side.

The English and American side of my family, the side of my mother's, were a lot less in the Miles' family loop. I didn't know much about my Uncle Edward - whom I had met once when I was very young - or his wife Tessa. I knew from my mother that Edward had been in a war or two, though he had never said which ones, and thus, I didn't believe it. He was a hot-blooded Welshman with a sweet tooth and blue streak whilst Tessa was a mild-mannered English bureaucrat. Such a vibrant mixture of personalities was only seen in movie scripts and comic books. Garage-shop owner meets politician. What a brilliant mess. I could only imagine what their kids were like… Wait. I could.

I had only met Jenny, Tessa's daughter from another marriage, once, but I knew she was the kind of person who probably wouldn't turn up at a party unless she was dragged there. In the back of my mind, I set a chair aside in case she did come. Haytham, on the other hand, was by far the most social Kenway. He never made much personal contact with anyone, but there was always a pleasant automated voice message from the high offices of Wall Street wishing the Miles family happy holidays. I thought about it, but I had never actually _met_ Haytham face to face. I had Skyped with him once, and so I knew he was relatively close in age to me, him being thirty-nine years old, and me being thirty-two. I knew he had dark hair like his mother and cold-but-amiable eyes like his father. Cold but amiable. That was a good way to describe the Kenway branch of my family tree. Especially when talking about Haytham's young-had son, Connor. I didn't know much about the barely-twenty-year-old half-native boy, just that he was a stingy nineteen years younger than his father. Apparently, he would be bringing his girlfriend of four years to dinner, not that I had intended to give seats to plus ones, but maybe she could make the looming Pollockian mess of Thanksgiving just a little more bearable.

Truth be told, I was nervous around the Kenways. They just seemed so… Distant. I knew that wasn't the case though, considering they all lived in the closest proximity to me. If they were the first to arrive for dinner, I knew I would have _a lot_ of awkward stalling time before Ezio and Altaïr got their clans here.

It wasn't as if I didn't love them all. Of course I did. It's just that I didn't know them very well.

_Who else is coming?_ I couldn't think right now, I was stressing out so much. Why had it been _my _responsibility to host the family dinner this year? It was because my parents had flew across the Atlantic to bump hips with the dutch and do God only knows what.

I knew that tonight would be chaos. And I could only hope a bartender, college fuck-up like me could handle it.

Clay was relaxed as hell, reclined on the brown tweed couch between the dining room and living room. I was bust flitting around cleaning and neatening, worrying about everything my mother had told me about her family and all the things my father had warned me about his.

Ezio _hated _apples, including apple pie.

Haytham _hated _clutter and refused to go anywhere that wasn't organized.

Edward _would_ find the liquor cabinet, no matter _how_ well you locked it.

Darim and Sef _needed _to have access to high-speed, take-shit-from-no-provider WiFi.

I hoped that the women at the table would keep their men in line. I know I certainly couldn't if I tried. Maria would keep her boys in line, and I'm sure Sofia would keep Ezio and her children at an acceptable level of humility. Anyone who could tame Ezio's fire was certainly number one in my books. Likewise with Tessa and Edward. Tessa had always been the one to call personally, unlike Haytham, at the holidays, and unlike Haytham, spoke with me on every calendar holiday. I hadn't met her, though, like Haytham, but I knew she was good friends with my mother. She had talked to me and told me that as long as her family behaved themselves, she was the sweetest thing anyone could ever know. That made me worry about the rumoured friction between Haytham and Connor. I wondered if grandma Kenway would be able to keep the peace between her step-son and grandson. Thinking of Connor made me think of Aveline. I hoped she would just be blissfully ordinary.

The stress must've been glaring through, for Clay shielded his eyes dramatically and said, "Desmond! You're burning hotter than the sun! You have _got_ to calm down!"

"Clay, I can't, alright? I need to get everything straightened out, cooked, checked, cleaned, _locked_, and checked again before my family gets here. I'm guessing that Haytham will be here first because he's closest so…"

"How is Wall Street _closest_?" Clay laughed.

"It is compared to the others," I sighed, brushing him off. "I have no idea who's going to get here first. I asked everyone to call me when they were leaving."

"Just so you could psyche yourself up?"

"Exactly."

Clay sighed. "Well, I hope they just keep it reigned in. From what I've heard from you, they seem like hellspawn."

I took a moment to reflect. "Aw, I guess they're not all that bad. I mean, I'll be meeting my mom's side pretty much for the first time. I've met my dad's side, at least, and they're pretty good." I plunked myself down next to Clay after arranging the coasters just so. "Are you sure you don't want to bail now? I won't stop you. You have three seconds to decide."

"Desmond," my foster brother scolded, "I know you want me to be here, so I'll be here. It's not like I have anywhere else to go. Besides, it'll be fun to meet some new people. Might help take my mind for things…"

My brother the shut-in. He hadn't left his house since his biological parents had died in a car crash four weeks ago. Having only met them just two years prior, he hadn't known them long enough to make a connection. Although, the trauma of identifying their bodies as his parents was crippling to him. Since then, he had been living with me. I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to get to know him better. I knew that he was capable of getting through this. He definitely needed a new situation to take his mind off things.

My family reunion was _definitely _ a new situation.

"You'll have a great time, Clay," I reassured him. "You won't have _time _to think about anything else."

Clay shot me a confused look, and I just smiled and went off to the kitchen to check the thirty-one pound turkey once again.

It took about two hours for the turkey to turn gold, just like my mom had said. I re-read the directions for stuffing and began my chores. I hadn't ever really prepared dinner before, but luckily, Clay was a master in the kitchen. He ended up doing most of the cooking, preparing and baking anyways. I was the heavy lifter and bar-keep, obviously. The massive part-dinosaur bird was not going to come without a fight. It had taken three of us to get it in from the car and four to get it into the oven. I suggested we just slice it up and barbecue it, but Clay vied for traditional. So traditional we went, and made all the accoutrements to go with it. And I had to admit, I was damned proud of myself so far. I only hoped the rest of the night would just fall into place.

At around three-thirty, my first phone call came. I had said for everyone to be here by six, and that dinner was at seven, but I had a feeling things weren't just going to fall into place.

I answered the phone and was greeted with a bout yelling, screaming and complaining. It sounded as if I had interrupted a flock of squabbling gulls. I tried to greet the noise but it just got louder. Finally, I heard a muffled, but rather loud, "_Silenzio_, _bambini_! Your father is trying to talk!"

_Ezio, thank god_.

I found myself actually dreading the calls from the Kenways. I wasn't good at formal calls. At all. At least with Ezio, I knew him well enough to know what and what not to say.

I tried again. "Ezio?"

"_Desmond! Come stai, nipote?_"

"English, Uncle Ezio, remember," I reminded him with a good natured roll of my eyes. It was really good to hear his voice after so long.

"Yes! Yes! I remember! English family and whatnot. I'll just stay my native tongue for people I haven't met. _Ha!__"_

Another voice chimed in.

"Ezio, just be friendly. If your nephew wants you to speak English to his other guests, then you do it out of courtesy."

"_Ci, ci, amore mio__…_"

The voice addressed me now. "Desmond? Hello, this is Sofia!"

"Hi, Sofia," I replied. "It's nice to finally talk to you."

"Oh, and I can't wait to meet you. Your father and uncle have told me so much about you!" Sofia fawned. I could already tell I was going to like her, so friendly and in control of Ezio…

"Now, _bambino_, we're probably going to be a little late. Marcello forgot his _coperta_ at home and we have to go back for it. Sorry about that. I hope Altaïr has called?"

"Not yet, uncle. I hope he does soon though. I'm honestly dreading—"

"_Papa! Marcello keeps poking me! Make him stop!_"

"Marcello! _Smettila!_" Ezio barked at the shrill little voice in the background. "Sorry, Desmond. Kids, you know?"

"Ha ha, no I don't!" I joked, truthfully glad to be childless for the time being.

"We'll see you soon, Desmond," Sofia called out. "I'll let you know when we're in the area."

"Okay, Sofia, thanks. See you all later."

Ezio started to say something, but was cut off by a loud giggle and a crash. I heard the beginning of the word _fanculo_, then the call ended abruptly. I smiled to myself and hung up, hearing the satisfying click of my screen shutting off and a few precious moments of silence before my _Stayin__' __Alive_ ringtone blared in my ear again.

"Please don't be Edward… Please don't be Edward…" _Click_. "Hello?"

"—Is it on? I don't think that it's on. Darim, what is this silly thing?"

"Dad! It's bluetooth. Just say hello," I heard Darim coax his father.

I inquired, though a already knew who it was. "Altaïr?"

"AH! Desmond! Can you hear me alright? AM I LOUD ENOUGH?"

"_Yes_! I can hear you just fine, uncle," I reassured. I laughed to myself at Altaïr's inability to keep up with the technology of today, while having sired such tech-savvy sons.

As if reading my mind, I heard Sef in the background pipe up with, "Dad, you don't have to yell so loud."

Before the arguing started, I interjected loud enough for the whole car to hear. "Are you guys on your way?"

"Yes, we just picked up Darim from the hospital. They said it was permanent."

"Oh my god, is he okay?" I asked, momentarily alarmed.

"Desmond, I'm fine," Darim spoke up. "Excuse my father. You know his sense of humour."

"Ha ha…" I mumbled, rolling my eyes, feeling like an idiot. "So what does that mean? Did you…?"

"Yes! I got the job," Darim announced proudly. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Congratulations," I exclaimed. I suddenly heard a call waiting sound. "Just a second guys, I have another call coming in." My interjection went unnoticed, luckily, and I slipped into my incoming call. "Hello?"

"Desmond," a curt upper-class English accent not so much greeted me as vaguely regarded me.

"Hey, Haytham," I said, purposefully nonchalantly, knowing the informality might irritate him. I could practically hear the disgruntled scowl on his stern face. "Are you—"

"When were you expecting guests to arrive?" Haytham interrupted coldly.

"Um… Around sixish?" I answered, trying to be polite.

"What _time_?" he suddenly demanded. "Give me a _time_."

_Jesus, and I thought Clay was control-freaky__…_ "Six o'clock!" I gasped.

"Very well."

**II**

Suddenly, I heard the doorbell ring. My stomach dropped as I glanced at my watch. Exactly six o'clock. How had the day gotten away so quickly?

I remembered that I had Altaïr on hold. I quickly apologized to Haytham and switched back. The family was still chattering amongst themselves. Apparently, Darim hadn't told his family about getting the job as a cardiologist. He had spoken to me about it briefly a couple days ago, but nothing was permanent. Either way, I just allowed them to continue talking while I scrambled for the door.

Juggling my conversation with the La'Ahad car and answering whoever was at the door, I jammed the phone against my ear with my shoulder as I shoved the final chair into place. The doorbell rang again, then once again in quick succession. I hustled over to the door, talking a deep breath. I opened the door, clutching my phone for emotional support. A man in a striking blue-black suit, maroon tie and sharp, slicked back black hair stood tall in the doorway, Blackberry in hand and sunglasses tucked back atop his hair. He only glanced up after I had stood there gawping for several seconds.

"How dare you hang up on me," Haytham scolded lightly. A cold smile crossed his lips as he sheathed his Blackberry and stuck out his hand to me. "So good to finally meet you, cousin."

I could hardly breathe. "Um, hi, Haytham. Sorry ab-about that, I-I had Altaïr on the other line," I stammered. _Jesus, he__'__s just as scary as my mom warned. _Perhaps it was my imagination, but even his hand was cold to the touch. "Hey, uh, please come in. Clay is making dinner. I'm just neatening up."

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. I may as well have just rolled over in submission with my tail between my legs. "Um, Clay. My foster brother," I quickly informed, holding a hand out to invite the statuesque man in. It felt like I was letting a wolf into my house. I only hoped he didn't bite.

In my ear, I heard Altaïr address me. "Desmond, we're getting on the freeway now. We should be there soon, but we will likely be a little late." _Oh no__…_

"Okay, thanks for calling, Uncle. I'll see you soon." I hung up and once again regarded Haytham, who was looking around the bungalow like it was a slum. He looked at the framed picture of my drunken friends and I hanging off a lamp post in Times Square, mouths open in the middle of the line "_I__'__m singin__' __in the rain_". I saw Haytham smirk a little. Maybe he wasn't so cold and distant after all.

I hoped.

"Lovely place," he mused quietly, hands behind his back as he meandered through the house.

"Oh, thanks," I chirped, "I've had it for like, um… Three years now…?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

This was going to be a long wait for the Uncles Auditore and La'Ahad. "Um, the latter."

Haytham stuck out his lower lip in feigned interest. I asked if he wanted anything to drink. "Black Earl grey, if you have it, please. Thank you."

I pretended like I knew what he was talking about. I assumed he meant tea. I would ask Clay. He had done the shopping and I told him we needed a lot of tea. Apparently tea was a big thing in the Kenway family.

I told Haytham I would be back in less than five minutes. He only nodded and continued looking around the living room. I scampered to the kitchen, still clutching the phone in my hand. Clay turned around from being studiously bent over the stuffing.

"Who's here first?" Before I could reply, Clay answered for me. "Mr. Anal Retentive. Am I right?"

I nodded hastily. "He wants Earl grey. Is that tea? Do we have that?"

Clay smirked. "Yes, in the lower drawer. There's water in the kettle."

"You're honestly a life saver, Clay…" I breathed, leaning against the countertop next to the kettle. I tried hard to imagine if my foster brother had not been here. He had just been through a tragedy and now he was helping me, where the worst tragedy in my life was worrying about whether or not I had locked my front door the evenings I worked. He has done so much for me, and all I've done for him is give him a place to stay. I felt as though he deserved more.

"There's only been _one_ person over so far. You're not even halfway through the evening yet! Besides, if you get so bent out of shape now, before anything has even happened, how the hell are you going mange the rest of the night? One step at a time," Clay reasoned, his words calming me slightly. I grasped my head in stress. "Relax, Desmond. I'll do the ice breaking with the Kenways if you want."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely tickled.

"We both know you are _not_ good at first introductions sober. Have a glass of merlot and you'll loosen up," Clay said, handing me a bottle of deep red liquid and a crystalline glass. "I know what you're thinking, and no, it wasn't _that_ expensive. Mom and dad weren't exactly poor, and with me being their only son, biological or foster, naturally all the spoils fell to me. So… You can thank me later."

With that, Clay sashayed into the living room and greeted Haytham jovially, leaving me to the tea. I could feel my mouth hanging open in surprise. _I really need to stop being such a p__— _

The phone went off again. _Who can it beee now_… I sang in my head, lifting the phone to examine it. The number was unrecognized. I answered anyway. "Hello?"

"Desmond!" shouted a mirthful female voice.

"Um… Who's this?"

"This is Aveline de Grandpré, Connor's girlfriend," the girl said. "I just wanted to call and warn you about—"

"Warn me?" I interjected, worried something bad had happened.

"Don't worry too much, eh…" Aveline trailed off. Now I was _really_ worried. "It's, um… It's Connor…"

"What? What about Connor?" I asked, my voice increasing in volume an octave.

"Yeah, um. He can't make it due to a… What did you call it?" It sounded like she was talking to someone in the background. Her voice got louder when she spoke again. "He can't make it due to a _business opportunity that cannot be missed_." It sounded like she was reciting something, so monotone and mechanical. "So he won't be… I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I can't do it!… I mean look at your face!" She was _laughing_.

"Aveline? What's going on?" I asked sternly, hoping my seniority gave me an edge to my voice.

"I'm sorry Desmond," Aveline giggled, "It's Connor. He's making me make excuses for him. You should see his face! He looks like Grumpy Cat!"

I heard a grumble in the background, assuming it came from Connor, I held my tongue. The kid had been so serious when I had met him a few years ago. He came into Maria's bar asking for a job when he was only fourteen. I had personally refused him, not even knowing he was my own cousin. He hadn't even smiled. Him on his own would be an obstacle. I guess I would have to crack open the liquor cabinet sooner than later.

"I believe you," I said to Aveline while fishing a tea bag out of the drawer and a mug from the shelf. "I wouldn't want to come either," I admitted, hoping that Connor wasn't within earshot. "It's going to be an interesting evening."

"Oh, he's just being antisocial," Aveline reassured. "I'll get him to loosen up a little. I've been here this long. There must be something about me…" She trailed off again, her voice growing softer. I guessed she had turned the doe-eyes that girls naturally had on Connor, reducing him to Jell-O. I found myself excited to meet her. "We'll see you soon, Desmond."

"Okay. Thanks for calling, Aveline. See you guys soon." I hung up and shoved my phone in my back pocket, hoping it wouldn't go off again for a while and that everyone's commutes took just a little longer than expected. I grabbed Haytham's tea and strode into the living room. All the years of bar tending had given me an unnaturally steady hand when balancing drinks. Speed and balance were my thing, not so much endurance…

When I got to the living room, Clay and Haytham were deep into a conversation about stocks and bonds or something. Either way, the wolf was occupied and his scrutinizing eyes weren't trained on me. When I made myself present, Haytham ceased conversation to thank me. I had to admit, despite his intimidating manner, he was actually really courteous, not at all the cold, aristocratic asshole I had made him out to be. Perhaps that combination was exactly why he was so successful on Wall Street.

"No problem," I mumbled as I handed him his drink. I sat down on the couch next to Clay. Of course Haytham had taken the thin black leather wingback chair that I and won in a poker game, the only chair in the room that had only been used once. In fact, it was the only chair in the room that kind of suited him. He took a careful sip of the tea. His face didn't read disgust, so I assumed I got it right. Just as I sighed, he peered up over the rim of the cup, as if sensing my distress.

"My father hasn't called yet, has he?"

_How did he know what I was thinking? Agh!_ "No, he hasn't," I answered.

"He won't," Haytham responded curtly. I was taken aback. I didn't know what to expect from Edward exactly. I had just assumed he would call like everyone else had. But maybe not… "You should hide your liquor now, bartender," Haytham tutted. "Edward has never exactly been one for sobriety." Haytham tucked his sunglasses in his jacket pocket and whipped out his Blackberry again. "Excuse me."

He left the living room to wander around in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I quickly scooted over to Clay. "You ready to admit defeat?" I asked sarcastically.

"I'm thinking that if the rest of your family is worse than Haytham… They _really _aren't that bad," Clay decided.

"You haven't met Ezio yet…" I muttered, wishing my off-colour uncle would get here sooner than later. Suddenly, we heard Haytham's voice raise in anger. We could hear his conversation from the hallway.

"What do you mean _I__'__m_ the problem?! It wasn't _me_ who cut him out of my life! That was all you, Ziio… _NO!__… _At least I'm _trying_ to get to know him. You were never there for him!… At least I took him to school!… You left as soon as you could… Don't you apologize… Don't you _dare_ call this number again!" I heard a click and an exasperated sigh. Immediately, I felt bad for not knowing my cousin better. It seemed like regardless of the wealth and fame that Wall Street had to offer, he still was just as lonely as the rest of us.

I hadn't realized that I had been leaning forward from my seat to catch the conversation. I straightened out when I heard Haytham pace back into the dining room. "Troubles at work?" I offered innocently, and stupidly, I add.

Haytham seemed distracted. I asked again and he looked up. "Oh. Eh… No, just… Complications I thought were dealt with…" His face hardened as he re-took his seat with us. "Who else is coming this evening, Desmond?"

I thought of my guest list. "Um… My uncles Altaïr La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore—"

"Auditore. Is that Italian?" Haytham asked politely enough.

"Yes. He's from Florence. So is his wife, Sofia. They met when he went back to visit family."

"How nice. Please continue," the middle Kenway coaxed.

"So… Those two and their kids. Altaïr and his wife and—"

The doorbell rang, interrupting me mid-sentence. I looked at Haytham as if to ask permission to get up. I shook my head and tried to be rid of the complex Haytham was giving me. I reached the door and listened for a moment. I heard two squealing little kids, and I knew my heart rate dropped significantly.

III

I opened the door and suddenly the squealers attacked me from the ground, jumping up and grasping my legs. I stumbled back in shock, a wide smile plastered on my face.

"_Nipote!_"

In the doorway stood my youngest uncle, although he didn't look it. His exquisitely tailored shiny brown suit, elegant pale gold bow tie and shoes that looked like they cost more than my house, looked entirely out of place with the rest of his visage. He had a face that looked as though it had seen the rise and fall of the Byzantine Empire and long sooty hair pulled back into a messy bun. But regardless of the weathered, tanned skin and the scruffy-but-well-kept beard, his bright brown eyes still glittered with the fire of his youth. With a wide smile, he opened his arms and pulled me to his ludicrously solid chest.

"It is good to see you, _mi amico_! I see the little ones have already taken a liking to you," he mused, smiling down at whom I assumed were his and Sofia's kids. At that moment, Sofia stepped out from behind Ezio, a large bag and a blanket in her arms. She smiled at the kids clambering up my legs.

"Yeah, seems like it!" I laughed, looking down at the little red-headed girl and the umber-haired boy.

"This is Flavia, and Marcello," Sofia introduced sweetly, pointing at each child respectively.

I scooped them up in my arms, holding one in each crook. The little girl giggled gleefully while the little boy just stared at me blankly with a finger in his mouth. "Hi," I offered, trying to make him smile. He only turned away and grabbed the air in front of his father. Ezio took him out of my arm, letting me support the girl with two, and explained that he was pretty shy.

"That's okay. I'm shy, too," I pouted at the little girl in my arms. "You're not scary, are you?" I asked with feigned shyness. I heard Sofia laugh gently, her own long red hair bouncing in tight ringlets.

"Rawr!" was the only response I got before tiny arms wrapped themselves around my neck. I pretended to stumble back, going along with it. Flavia squealed happily in my arms. I felt a flood of happiness spread through me, dousing the stress, at least for now.

"Come on in, guys. You can throw the bags behind the couch against the wall."

I lead the way in, glancing over at Clay and Haytham for their reactions. Surprisingly, it wasn't Haytham, as I expected, to turn up his nose at the young kids. It was Clay who's nose scrunched in distaste. He excused himself to check on the turkey, while Haytham rose in his place, waiting to be introduced. I walked over to him introduced him to my friendliest uncle.

"Haytham… Ezio, and Sofia. Sofia and Ezio… Haytham."

Ezio had to relinquish his youngest offspring to his wife in order to shake Haytham's outstretched hand. "_Ciao_, _signore_," Ezio sang in his thick Italian accent, shaking the Englishman's hand roughly. "It's a pleasure!"

"The pleasure's all mine," Haytham replied automatically. He thought about what to say to the outgoing Italian. Finally, he settled on, "Is that accent Florentine?"

_Asshole, I told you that__…_

"_Ci!_ It is! What an ear you have, my friend!" Ezio beamed, pulling Haytham in and patting his shoulder. Haytham looked very uncomfortable in my uncle's grasp, and so, I was satisfied. I think Ezio could sense Haytham was a bit of a stick in the mud, so he held him fast. "Have you been to Florence?"

"I-I've hardly been out of the state, save for yearly trips to London—"

"My friend, you need to loosen up. Desmond!" Ezio beckoned me. "What do you have to drink?"

"Um, I think we have some Merlot open, chilling in the fridge…"

"I think Mr. Haytham—"

"Kenway…" the wolf grumbled.

"—Mr. Kenway, needs something a little stronger than wine…" Ezio smiled that mischievous smile and lead Haytham back into the living room. I was left to help Sofia out with the bags. I put Flavia down and helped Sofia with the toddler bag. We had barely shuffled our way in when the doorbell rang again. I jostled over and threw the bags behind the couch. Clay was still nowhere to be seen. I would have to go find him once I settled the next guests in with the group. I checked my watch, nearly seven o'clock. I sincerely hoped it was Altaïr at the door. He and Maria were always awesome guests. They just blended so well with everyone.

I opened the door with my eyes closed. _Please, please, please, please__…_

"There he is! Little Desmond! Oh my goodness, look at you!"

_Tessa_?

It was her alright. In through the door bounced a petite woman with cropped, short black hair, donning a black leather jacket and blue jeans. Not at all what I pictured Tessa, the bureaucrat, would ever look like, but I guess that appearances were definitely deceiving. She could not have been more than forty, but perhaps it was the bubbly personality that gave her that youthful first impression. And my mother had said she was the mild one. I dreaded what was to come through that door next.

While Tessa hugged me, I peered over her shoulder at the figure in the dark stalking up my driveway. I already knew who it was, and I was honestly terrified to meet my alcoholic, gun-owning, supposed-heathen of an uncle. Tessa released me and tumbled into the house in a flurry of 'hellos' and 'nice to meet yous'. I was stuck standing at the doorway face to face with my tall, dark and scary uncle Edward.

The man stood easily a foot taller than me, and easily dwarfed me in stature, too. He looked down at me with a scowl set deep in his weathered face. He sported gingery-blond stubble, and loose blond hair that looked matted down. I took it from his black leather jacket, chaps and and boots that he had gotten here by motorcycle. Aviator glasses hung down below his neck, pulling down his navy blue t-shirt. I spied several tattoos just beneath his collar bone, of what, I had no idea. I could only hope they weren't gang marks or something like that—

"Are you just gonna stand there, boy, or are you gonna shake your uncle's hand?"

The gruff Welsh accent sounded harsh, but peculiarly soft. I didn't say anything but stammer as I stuck out my hand to my least acquainted, intimidating uncle.

_Intimidation must run in the Kenway family__… __And I thought _Haytham_ was scary. _

With a frown, Edward looked down at my hand, and suddenly grabbed it and pulled me in close. I was slapped in the face with a strong-smelling cologne and slapped in the back with a strongly calloused hand. "Boy, you need to loosen up!" I heard Edward roar from above me, an obvious smile on his face. I managed to loose myself from his grasp, smoothing out my shirt. I re-evaluated the fifty-something man. Seeing him now, with a broad, friendly smile on his face made him look just a shade less scary than before. He now looked like a panther purring rather than snarling.

"S-sorry, Uncle Edward," I stammered. "I'm just a little stressed is all."

"Don't worry, boy," Edward reassured me gruffly. "The night is young. Where's your liquor?"

Before I could protest, Edward slipped past me and trudged, boots and all, into the living room. I really didn't mind people wearing their shoes, it was Clay who had the problem with dirty floors. Maybe I should've removed the rugs before everyone got here, but at the rate Flavia and Marcello were bombing around, I didn't want any hardwood-and-socks induced fatalities.

I followed Edward into the living room, where he and Ezio were already shaking hands. When I entered, Ezio turned to me with a wide smile on his face. "Desmond! Did you know that this man is the finest mechanic in the Americas? _Mio dio_! At the state my poor _Bella_ was in, I was sure I would never see her again!"

"Um?" I asked, puzzled.

"He's talking about his Ducati," Edward filled in. "Beautiful piece of machinery, that. Brought it in about two weeks ago, engine shot to bits." He shared what looked to be an inside joke with Ezio, casting a sly smile in his direction. I saw Sofia cross her arms and pout.

"Ezio… What is he talking about?"

My youngest uncle looked at her nervously, and ignored her, turning back to Edward. "Eh… Regardless of _how_ it happened… It is the end result that matters. And then end result, may I say, was _quite_ the work of art, _mi amico_!" He clapped Edward on the back with a friendly hand. If there was anyone who could makes friends in minutes, it was Ezio. Share a common interest with the man and you had your closest acquaintance. Though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that not even I had seen past Ezio's friendly smiles and jovial front. There was a darker side to him, I knew that. No one had ever seen what he was really like, where he went to in his mind whenever he remembered that fateful day when his father and brothers were murdered. He never spoke of it and I knew he was always in pain. Sofia must have been very special to have scaled his walls. I wished them well. Sofia seemed perfect for the fiery Italian.

I looked around the room at all the arrived guests. Clay had made no such re-appearance, and it was now I noticed he was basically the cat of the house; only social when _he_ wanted to be. He would probably still be in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. I worried that I may have given people too narrow a timespan to get here before dinner. Altaïr and his family still weren't here, and Connor and Aveline weren't here either.

I decided just to get drinks for everyone, finish off the Merlot, and hope that Edward didn't let himself into the liquor cabinet.

Merely thinking of the Welshman seemed to attract his attention. He strode over to me, arms wide, a broad smile on his aged face. "Boy, where're those drinks, eh? I'm thirsting over here!"

Even if I didn't know him very well, his smile was contagious. I couldn't help but smile in return to his unexpectedly friendly demeanour. "Just a minute, Uncle Edward. I'll get everyone drinks just as soon as—"

"Son!"

It turns out that Edward wasn't even listening to me. He was now beaming at Haytham, who was surpassingly frowning at his father. Edward approached Haytham cautiously, as if he was worried something was wrong. Haytham only stared blankly, a pout creasing his jaw and brow.

"Son?" Edward looked hurt that his son was glaring at him so coldly. His brow was furrowed in confusion, probably like mine, and Ezio's, and Tessa's. Haytham only looked on coldly before striding slowly over to face him directly. The rest of us, aside from the kids, were frozen to our places, not knowing what to expect. They were both intimidating men on their own, but beside each other... Well, let's say it was like watching a blue and red coat face off.  
>"Father," Haytham said tightly, face like stone.<br>"Haytham," came the equally strained response from deep within Edward's throat.  
>The stare-down continued. Suddenly, the two men broke wide in smile and embraced each other largely. As they smiled and clapped each other's backs, the rest of us took in a well deserved breath. Immediately, the weight in the room lifted.<br>"It's been ages, son! Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I could ask you the same question, Father…" Haytham replied smartly.

"Iv'e been out and around! I ain't been at home, boy!"

"Out and around where? Doing what?"

Edward suddenly became flustered. "Ahh, well, you know.. Auto… Things…" He trailed off. "Nothing you'd be concerned with," he added quickly as Haytham was about to protest. The burly Welshman turned to me with creased eyebrows, as if looking for an excuse to move on. "Now, then nephew. How about those drinks then, eh?"

I snapped out of whatever twilight zone I was in and collected my thoughts. "Oh yeah! I'll be right back."

Clay looked up at me form the pies as I walked into the kitchen. "Everyone here, yet?"

"No," I sighed, "not yet. still waiting on Altaïr's clan and Connor and Aveline. That should be it. I asked for no other guests, other than Aveline of course."

"_Of course,_" Clay repeated absentmindedly, tasting the pie filling for enough cinnamon. I busied myself by taking the wine out of the fridge. _As if wine will satiate Edward_, I thought sourly. I didn't even know him, so why was I already so fed up with him?

I half filled everyone's glasses, and considered putting more in for myself to loosen up my nerves, but thought that I should stay on my toes, at least until everyone was friendlier. Putting them all on a tray, lifting it just above my shoulder, I walked my practised walk and set about serving my family. Scarcely before I got out of the kitchen, however, I tripped on Clay's silly Persian knock-off rug and plummeted to the ground.

IV

"Thank God for plastic…" I mumbled as I tried to right myself. The wine was everywhere, the pinkish fluid seeping into every corner of the carpet I was sure to pay for later. "Damn!"

"Let me help you with that."

I looked up at the friendly, young feminine voice that offered assistance. I could feel my eyes widen as I stared up at the stunning girl who was now bending down to help me. She had bronze coloured skin that seemed to glow in the sinking sunlight, and a body that would make any man wilt. Her smile was sweet, disarming, and hauntingly beautiful like the rest of her. And her eyes… Her eyes were like the finest gold, flecked with amber and intelligence so deep that—

"Everything alright, Aveline?"

My puppy-dog eyes dropped as I stared even higher up at the stocky trunk of who I would only assume was Edward's grandson, Connor. The half-Iroquois boy looked down his nose at me, a permanent scowl on his face.

I stared up at Connor, knowing exactly how he was related to the Kenways. His deeply sunken eyes, hard brow and angular jaw all pronounced "I am not to be fucked with" just like his father and grandfather. I had never met Ziio before, but I knew she must give the softer eyes and gentler hands. Hopefully, he was not _all_ his father's son.

"Hey, let's get you up."

Aveline managed to snap me out of my trance and helped me up. Connor bent down to pick up the glasses and replaced them on the tray.

"That will stain..." Connor said quietly. His voice was so monotone, so unlike a twenty-something year old's.

"Uh, yeah. I'll get something to clean that," I mumbled. When I noticed Connor glaring at me, I didn't know what was wrong, until I realized I was still holding onto Aveline's arms. "Oh! Ah, sorry, A-Aveline! I, uh..."

_Just go get more drinks, stupid!_

I left my eloquent speech at that, and left to take the long way into the kitchen. Once I was there, I slouched into a chair, not even realizing Tessa and Sofia were making conversation at the table.

"Oh, he's always been this surly," Tessa was saying of Edward, "but one you get a couple drinks in him, he's your best friend!"

"Well it seems like he and Ezio are getting along just fine," Sofia replied sweetly.

"Yes, that's good. So how long have you known him? Your children are beautiful, love! I can see why...!"

The two women chattered amongst themselves while Clay put even more finishing touches on the turkey. I had to admit, it _was_ a giant bird, and I supposed it _did_ require a lot of attention to detail.

I approached him sheepishly, worried about how he'd react about the carpet. Before I managed to choke out my meagre apology, the doorbell rang. I let out an audible sigh of relief and practically ran to the door.

The kids ran up behind my legs, watching the door eagerly to see who would step through. I opened the door to two finely-suited men, both about the same height, each with a black case in their hands. I thought for sure it was the IRS, come to kick me out of my, mostly Clay's, house. But they cracked a wide smile, and gave me a perfectly mirrored double hug. They clapped me on the back and both shouted, "Happy Thanksgiving, cousin!"

It took me a second to recognize them, but as soon as I saw the two elders dressed in baggy clothes and intricate beads, I knew the La'Ahads had arrived.

"Altaïr…" I breathed, sighing with relief.

"Desmond!" The others came in and double hugged me again. They smelled like incense and firewood; truly Earth-Mother lovers. My oldest uncle brought me at arms length to look at me. Maria smiled beside him. "Ah, look at you, my boy… How you've grown."

"Uncle," I started, a little embarrassed, "it's only been five months…"

"Sef! Darim! Come help us in with the things!" Maria yelled over my shoulder at the boys who had already begun ticking away at their laptops. "No electronics, boys!"

The begrudging look was obvious on their faces as they slunk back to the doorway to help Maria and Altaïr in with the bags of…food?  
>"Maria, what is all this?" I asked, holding the door open for them.<p>

"Oh, this? Just a little extra food for all the others…" Maria never finished her sentence. I knew it was because she secretly couldn't stand that it was me in charge of hosting dinner this year. She had always done it for our family, and since this would be the first year mum and dad wouldn't be here, they out me in charge for some reason. In the other years, it had just been the La'Ahads and I. Clay rarely came, and sometimes Ezio and Sofia would come with the kids, just babies at the time. Basically, Maria secretly resented the fact that she had to meet the rest of my family, having never approved of my mother in the first place.

_I have a strange family dynamic__… _

"DESMOND!"

I spun around to my name being called from the living room. It was Clay, fists clenched and trembling slightly, standing over the white-turned-pink rug. My shoulders drooped. I felt like a dog about to be scolded, but I guess that comparison wasn't too far off.

Suddenly, the kids scrambled towards Clay, nearly tripping over each other, both yelling, "Sorry, sorry, Clay! We didn't mean to! It was a accident!"  
>Clay could only stand there, suddenly bolted to the ground by two little kids. He didn't say much aside from stammer and look up and down from me to the kids and back. <em>And so the children find the cat<em>, I thought cheekily to myself. He deserved it.

Maria howled with laughter. "I see Ezio and his are here! Where is Sofia? It feels like it's been ages!"

"In the kitchen, Maria," I informed, "last time I saw her."

Satisfied, she called her sons to carry the heavy bags while she wandered into the kitchen. Altaïr was busily fiddling with something small and gold in his hands. I peered over his hands, trying to catch a glimpse, but he snatched it away and shoved it in his pocket.

"So, Desmond," he muttered quickly, "I hope we are not late for dinner!"

I sighed, and shook my head. "No, Uncle, you're just in time. I was just about to get drinks for everyone. Come in."

I led Altaïr through the house, looking around at everyone. Some were sitting uncomfortably, and some were… Actually, everyone looked pretty uncomfortable. With the men's wives all in the kitchen, there was no cohesiveness to be had.

_Men_…

When Altaïr saw Ezio standing alone by the mantle, he left me to go speak with him. Though they were fairly distant in age, they were still good friends whenever they saw each other. It was almost a transcendent relationship, as if they were meant to be born in the same time.

They clicked, but it seemed like Edward was saddened by Ezio's interest in someone else. Aveline was sitting very uncomfortably between the Kenway wolves. She looked up at me with pleading amber eyes. Connor was glaring past her at Haytham, who glared sidelong at him with his jaw clenched.

_Dinner is going to be quiet, isn__'__t it?_

"Excuse me…" Haytham muttered suddenly as he rose from his seat. Connor said something under his breath, but I didn't hear it. He walked stiffly out into the hallway, and I noticed that Edward slunk after him.

They were around the corner from the bathroom next to the kitchen. If I leaned backwards a little from where I was sitting next to Aveline, Connor and Darim, I could see them. I watched the ensuing conversation.

Haytham was texting madly, his brow furrowed deep in confusion. Finally, he just put the phone to his ear, and began barking at whoever was on the other end.

"Listen, William, I need those numbers _now_…. What?… No, I won't stand for this… _Embezzling_?! Are you _mad_? Get Charles on the line… Just hurry… Hello, Charles? What's the meaning of this? I leave the office for a weekend, and suddenly the company is being depleted— … Alright… I _won__'__t_ stand for this. Put your best on it— No. No, I have someone else in mind… No, he's not far. Actually, he lives in the area I'm in right now… I'll have him meet me as soon as possible… Thank you, to you as well." Haytham slumped against the wall, holding the bridge of his nose. "Just what I need now..."

"Trouble in paradise, son?"

Edward revealed himself. He must've been hiding somewhere, listening as I was. He crossed his arms, which were now bare save for a loose-fitting bowtie t-shirt.

_I _did_ say formal-casual__… _I thought with a sigh.

"Paradise?" Haytham asked, a little drained.

"You and your money well on Wall Street," Edward said pointedly. "Running dry somehow?"

"I'm not in the mood to discuss this, father," Haytham said sharply. Edward feigned innocence.

"Sorry! Sorry, didn't know it was such a terrible thing to inquire about my son and his well-being!"

Haytham's eyes narrowed. "If you're going to ask for more money...?"

"No! No! Noooo!" he chortled. "Wouldn't dream of it, boy..." The way he trailed off led me to believe he had something more to say, something else to ask... There was a moment of awkward silence before Edward spoke again.

"How's the cat doing?"

"Excuse me? What cat?"

"You know, the fat cat. Sits in your office, blowing his nose with Franklins? About ye tall," -he measured about five feet in the air- "grey hair, looks a little like Danny DeVito on a good day?"

Haytham still looked stunned. It took him a while, but he got it. "Do you mean Mr. Birch?" When Edward nodded, Haytham got a little flustered. "Well, for one... It's not _my_ office. It's his. And I think he's doing fine... There's no reason why you should compare him to a cat, though..."

"He's still got your tongue though, hasn't he, boy?" Edward asked abrasively, pointing a finger at his son's chest. Haytham swatted it away, muttering a defense, but the Welshman went on. "I told you, you're wasting your time! He's crushing your potential. I'm telling you, come work for me."

"No, father! We've had this conversation before. I am _so_ close to making president of the firm! Reginald came to me the other day and said specifically to gather my finest. You know what that means? Me and mine taking the floor. _Owner_ of the Wall Street branch of Abstergo Stock Industries!" Haytham was getting passionate now. "A superpower, father. That's what that means. I just need to bide my time..."

"And now you've got a thief in your midst," Edward added coyly, looking across his nose.

"It's nothing. I'm dealing with it," Haytham muttered quickly. "Never you mind..."

"Well, well," Edward tutted, "Look who's got everything under control!" He leaned in closer. He uttered something I didn't catch, but Haytham's face shifted from serious to seriously guilty.

"...I can't help if his mother never lets me see him. I've never _met_ the boy face to face. This will be the first... He's here and I haven't even spoken to him yet..." My own shoulders dropped when I realized he was talking about the divorce, about Connor.

"And what an occasion to do it, eh?" Edward roared, clapping his son on the shoulder. "Just be natural. And don't talk about work! He hates what you do."

Haytham looked confused. "Hates what I...?"

"Boy's a major in political activism and human rights, Haytham," Edward warned. "You think you and your wolf pack sit well in his books?"

Haytham considered this and nodded. "What do you propose we talk about, then?"

"Hunting... Sports?" Edward offered.

"I've done neither recreationally."

"I've taken you hunting before, boy!"

"I was _ten_, father! And that was just before you left mother, Jenny and I to travel with your mates for _tw__e__lve_ years! Needless to say, it's not my fondest memory..."

Edward looked crestfallen. His eyes grew dark as he said, "You know I didn't abandon you, Haytham... I'd never."

"...I know, father."

The two embraced gruffly and started walking back into the living room. Edward whispered something in Haytham's ear, probably something along the lines of "let's go meet your son then drink and be merry" knowing as much as I did about Edward.

I felt the tension crackling in the air. Boy, was this going to be awkward.

16


End file.
